


The Fires of R'Hllor

by TheRedWulf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Forward Only Forward, King Stannis, Magic, Red Priestess, plot holes, sorcery, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-29 13:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - In which Melisandre of Asshai summons her hidden Protégé to Dragonstone...Picsets are viewableHEREandHEREandHERE





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).

> Why have just 1 in progress fic when you can have 2? Twice the fun!  
This is dedicated to TommyGinger who gave me this mind worm of an idea that won't go away. 
> 
> I have maxed out the rating, for reasons.  
This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_ Many Years Ago_

_ Melisandre of Asshai stood on the docks, scanning the crowd diligently looking for the face that the Lord of Light had shown to her. The girl, whoever she was, was important and she had to find her. She would not fail the Lord of Light, not in this._

_She spotted her the moment she stepped from the ship, her clothing far too Westerosi to blend in, her hair, though mostly hidden was a bright, fiery red. Kissed by fire, Melisandre smiled to herself. The Lord of Light had shown Melisandre the girl many times, each time emphasizing that she would be Melisandre’s purpose in this world._

_Moving to the girl’s side she smiled warmly, knowing she would be afraid, “My child” Melisandre began. “I am here to help.”_

_”I do not know you---”_

_”But I know you, Sansa of House Stark. You are a wolf far from home” Melisandre explained. “The Lord of Light has sent me here to help you.”_

_”Help me?”_

_”You have always felt it, my child” Melisandre continued, looking the younger woman in the eyes. “The draw to the fire, to the flames. You are kissed by fire in more ways than one” she paused. _

_”How did you know that?”_

_“I know many things, my darling. Come, I am here to protect you.”_

_”How do I know I can trust you?”_

_”Because the Lord of Light has sent me here to keep you alive” Melisandre replied simply._

Sansa stared into the flames, watching as they danced and moved. She had lived in Volantis for many years and had gone from a scared girl of ten and two to a powerful, feared Priestess of ten and nine. As promised, Melisandre had protected her, helped her to grow stronger and to realize what she was capable of. 

She had never imagined, growing up with a mother so devoted to the Faith of the Seven, that such power could be attained. While Sansa had always been drawn to the flames, she did not know what she saw in them were visions. 

Watching now, she could see him, the tall, handsome king she had seen since she was a girl. He stood over a table of maps, his jaw clenched and glare fixed on the army markers before him. Beside him stood another grey haired man, both of them talking, though she could not hear what they said. 

Reaching out, she trailed her hands over the fire, touching his face and feeling the flames lick at her porcelain skin. They were warm but did not hurt her, instead she felt their embrace in her soul. The first time she had put her hand into the flames, Melisandre had watched with wide eyes as she proclaimed that Sansa was indeed ‘kissed by fire’ and truly blessed. 

Blessed, Sansa frowned slightly. She had been a child when the Bolton’s betrayed her family at the Lannister’s command. Their men flooding into Winterfell to murder everyone in their path. Only Sansa and her sister Arya had made it outside the walls, running into the woods until their legs could no longer carry them and they collapsed. 

When Sansa woke, Arya was gone and she was alone. She had cried for hours before picking herself up and making her way on her own. She knew she had to escape Westeros and something kept telling her that there would be a ship in White Harbor that could take her to Volantis. To safety. 

Melisandre had been waiting for her, her soft voice soothing her and soon the Red Priestess had become more of a mother to her than her own had been. 

She had learned not only about the Lord of Light but herself as well. While some of his Priests could weave glamours or see visions in the flames, Sansa was immune to fire. In contrast to Melisandre’s immunity to the cold, Sansa could walk through fire untouched. She could command the flame, conjure it to call upon visions. It had made her revered in the Red Temple, scaring some of the Priests around her. 

But that did not stop her from mastering her gifts, practicing and becoming stronger every day. 

Melisandre had taught her where her destiny lay and how to achieve it. Gone was Sansa Stark, but Sansa of Volantis, High Red Priestess of the Lord of Light was a force to be reckoned with.

_”They’re beautiful, mother” she marvelled, watching the flames dance in the hearth._

_”They’re dangerous,” her mother warned her. “Never touch them.”_

_”They will not harm me” the child scoffed with a smile. “They’re too beautiful.”_

_”They are dangerous Sansa” her mother warned._

_”I see people dancing” she smiled as she watched the fire. “A handsome king and a beautiful queen.” _

_Her mother abruptly pulled her hair as she braided it, breaking her concentration, “They’re dangerous. Never trust the flames.”_

_”Alright” she sighed sadly, watching the dancing pair fade from her mind as the fire raged on in the hearth._

“Renly is dead” Stannis said sadly, tossing the scroll aside. “Sickness has run rampant in his camp.”

“His army will rally to your cause” Melisandre said simply, watching the flames in the fireplace with rapt focus. “It is time.”

“Time?” Stannis hissed.

“To call for her” the Red Priestess spoke softly. 

“Who?”

“My Protégé” Melisandre replied. 

“I have never heard of this Protégé” Stannis countered, his deep voice an angry barb. 

“No one has, my king” Melisandre turned to face him. “I have kept her secret these years. The Lord of Light asked me to protect her and I served him well.”

“What a foolish notion” Stannis scoffed. “No one is a secret in this realm.”

“She escaped this realm, long ago” Melisandre shook her head. “You will see, my King. The Lord of Light shines through her.”

“Summon her then, this Protégé” Stannis looked to Ser Davos who looked equally skeptical. 

“And the consequences?” Melisandre prompted. “There is always a price to pay.”

“Then we pay them” Stannis looked to the Painted Table. “The odds are against us, call upon your God of Fire but there will be no burnings.”

“No, my King” the Red Priestess nodded. “With her, we will not need them.”

_”What do you see” Melisandre asked her softly. They stood in the courtyard of the Lord of Light’s Red Temple, both of them watching the large fire pit in the center. Other followers and lesser Priests occasionally stopped to watch them, eyes wide and afraid._

_”I see a war with many kings” Sansa replied, watching the flames dance. “I see sickness, a dying Queen who bore no children. A true king without a throne---no, there it is” she paused, her cheeks burning as she watched what the flames showed her. Surely this intimacy was private..oh, she felt her body heat._

_”I see it too” Melisandre whispered. “The Lord of Light sent me to you because you are important, my darling. So very integral to his purpose. You were born to be Queen and one day you will be.”_

_”I do not know how to be a Queen” Sansa admitted, reaching out to touch the fire. While her sleeve burned away she felt only warmth._

_”The Lord of Light will guide you, my darling” Melisandre assured her watching raptly as Sansa’s porcelain hand danced in the fire. _

Sansa stood on the bow of the great ship, watching the waters race by as she returned to Westeros for the first time in nearly a decade. Her deep burgundy cloak was pulled tightly around her, the hood covering her fiery hair. Behind her the men were hard at work, calling out orders and manning the sails emblazoned with a fiery stag. The fires of R’hllor burned around her King’s sigil, as they burned around her heart.

Melisandre had promised when she left nearly a year ago that she would send for Sansa when it was time, when the King was ready and while she trusted her guardian, she had not expected her summons so soon. 

It was time, she looked to the palm of her hand, turning it back and forth to examine the pale flesh. Pulling the Valyrian steel dagger from her belt she cut the flesh along the lifeline of her palm and as the blood pooled it turned to white-hot flame, wrapping around her hand in a warm embrace. 

In the depths she saw the king once more, the same scowling man she had seen her whole life. This time he stood with Melisandre, both of them watching her as she spoke, her words lost in the vision. 

Closing her eyes briefly she refocused and there it was, the vision that had been revealed to her only a moon’s turn ago. The king was now naked beneath her as she rode him, mindless with pleasure. He watched her with unrestrained awe, deep midnight eyes nearly black with desire as his hands travelled her body, from her breasts to the swell of her stomach. 

This man was her destiny, she knew. The Lord of Light had guided her out of Westeros and into Melisandre’s protection to save her and teach her what she needed to know to save this king. Her king. To save his crown. To give him sons. 

Melisandre watched from the docks as the ship crested the horizon, her Daughter in Light was nearly here and soon everything would be in motion. Queen Selyse had taken ill last night as Sansa neared and the moment Sansa stepped to shore the Queen would take her last breath. A price, she had told King Stannis, one that had to be paid. 

The visions in the flames had not faltered for years, growing only stronger, confirming that through Sansa the realm would have the Prince Who Was Promised, their savior and the Son of Light. Stannis would plant the seed and Sansa would give it life. 

It has been Melisandre’s honor to protect, teach and empower Sansa, making her the daughter she would never have. The Lord of Light had trusted her and she would not fail him. 

The dance of bright red hair, a fire of its own, came into view and she felt a smile form on her lips. Sansa had grown even more beautiful in the past year, the deep red of her dress and cloak suiting her perfectly. 

The man who called himself ‘Storm’ helped Sansa to the shore and Melisandre took her hands, the warmth of Sansa’s skin chasing away the cold, “My darling.”

“I have missed you” Sansa said softly, bending down so that Melisandre could kiss her forehead. 

“And I you” she replied. 

“Come, it is time you met him.”

“I see him” Sansa said quietly, almost inaudibly over the din of the docks. “More than what we saw in the courtyard. He is inside me, pleasuring me and I am with child.”

“My darling” Melisandre squeezed her hand. “You were born to be Queen, to be his. Trust in the Lord of Light’s plan.”

“I do, yet such intimacies...I am afraid I will disappoint him” Sansa admitted. Bells began to ring overhead, the keep of Dragonstone bursting into life. 

“The Queen is dead” Melisandre said simply. “It is time” she wrapped her arm around her Daughter in Light and they made their way to the castle.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your love and support on this! :D

_”Who is he?” Sansa asked her guardian as they sat beside the fireplace in her room._

_”Lord Stannis Baratheon” Melisandre replied._

_”King Robert’s brother” Sansa frowned. _

_”Brother and heir” she confirmed. “Cersei has given Robert no children and soon Robert will die. Stannis is the rightful king, the Iron Throne belongs to him.”_

_”I suppose it is foolish to wonder if I will love him” Sansa laughed softly. _

_”Not foolish” Melisandre smiled, smoothing Sansa’s hair from her face. “You will burn down the realm to save him and he will worship you, my darling.”_

Stannis’ gaze swung to the Red Priestess as she entered the Chamber of the Painted Table but the moment the woman behind her came into view he couldn’t look away. She was taller than Melisandre by nearly a half a head, elegant and stunning in her deep red dress. Her hair, a thick curtain of fire, hung past her slim waist, bouncing as she walked. 

“My King” Melisandre curtised. “My Daughter in Light, Sansa” she spoke and the girl gave a courtesy of her own. 

“Your Protégé then” he deduced, watching the girl as she stood and glanced to the table with wide eyes. The action was over before he could register it and she met his eyes, the bright blue fixing him in place. 

“My King” she said softly, her lips smiling. “I have seen you many times for many years.”

“Have you?” he said skeptically. 

“I have” she moved forward, lifting a hand to trace from his shoulder to his stomach, directly over where the thick scar lay beneath his armor. “You are skeptical” she gave a small frown. “I was once too.”

“And what changed your mind?” he found himself asking, glancing to Melisandre who looked upon the girl with unabashed reverence. 

“The Lord of Light” Sansa replied, pulling a dagger from her belt. He tensed but she did not raise it, merely dragged the tip across her porcelain palm. A thick well of blood formed and with a twitch of her fingers the blood turned to flame, dancing around her flesh. “I was born in the North, Your Grace, daughter to a follower of the Seven who was taught to fear the fire. But the Lord of Light saved me, protected me when I needed it most.”

“Born in the North?” he looked to her red hair.

“In a den of wolves that would warn Winter is Coming” she smiled. 

“You’re a Stark” he gaped. 

“I was” she replied, lifting the flame so he could look into it as she moved closer. “Now I am here to ensure that this is not just a vision.” He looked into the flame she held and saw himself on the Iron Throne, a younger version of himself beside him. Tall, dark and handsome but with bright blue eyes. A son? 

“My Daughter in Light is very gifted, My King” Melisandre said softly as Sansa’s hand closed, extinguishing the flame and healing her wound. 

“Sansa Stark is more than gifted, she is the heir to the North” Stannis replied. 

“The North will not rally behind a woman who follows the Lord of Light” Sansa reasoned. “The Stark name only carries so much weight.”

“The North bleeds” Stannis replied coolly. “They are dying at the hand of the Boltons.” 

“The North never did suffer traitors” she moved away, her eyes returning to the Painted Table. Her eyes traced over several markers and made minor adjustments to a few positions before looking to Ser Davos with a soft smile. 

_Sansa sang softly to herself, watching as the flame danced around her fingers. She was aware of the stares of the others around her, all of them watching raptly as she moved. _

_”Who is she?” the High Priest asked Melisandre._

_”An orphan” Melisandre replied. “I saw her in the flames and tracked her down.”_

_”She is quite gifted” the Priest noted. “The fire seems to follow her every whim.”_

_”She will bring us the Son of Light” Melisandre replied with a soft smile. “We have been awaiting her arrival for a very long time.”_

_”She is the vessel?” the Priest now watched in awe as the young maid manipulated the flames._

_”Indeed, she bleeds fire” Melisandre noted. “It is my honor to protect her. To teach her.”_

Stannis watched her as she walked along the rocky shore, her feet walking through the near-freezing waters without pause. His thoughts had been preoccupied with her since the moment she had arrived. He should have been mourning his wife, one who had hated him and made no secret of the fact, but instead he was watching the young Priestess as she walked through the tide. 

He imagined untying her dress, spreading the cloth to look upon her porcelain nudity. Imagined fucking her, roughly and deeply as she screamed his name, her eyes alight with that inner fire she seemed to hold. Spreading her across the painted table he would bury himself inside of her, losing himself in her body.

He had never been a lustful, sexual man, but her arrival had bewitched him in every way. He had seen her vision of the Iron Throne and he had seen the blue in the younger man’s eyes, a shade she carried in her own shockingly blue orbs. 

“My King” Melisandre’s voice broke into his observation and he turned from the balcony to find her beside him, smiling down at the young protégé. “She is beautiful.”

“Why have you summoned her here?” he asked bluntly. “To torment me?”

“She is yours, My King” the Red Priestess replied simply. “She always has been.”

“You speak in riddles” he snapped at her. 

“I once told you that you would bring us the Prince Who Was Promised” Melisandre said smoothly, her facade unflappable as always. “A man can only plant the seed, it is a woman who must give it life.” He looked back at her with shock and she continued. “She is the vessel, My King. Salt and smoke itself.”

“Then it is no coincidence my wife died the day she Sansa foot on Westeros?” Stannis ground his teeth. 

“The very moment Sansa stepped onto the sands your former Queen took her last breath” Melisandre said dryly. “The price for your future, My King.”

“I am not a man to father bastards” he glared. 

“I did not say they were bastards” Melisandre replied. “She is a woman of noble birth as well as a gifted woman, blessed by the Lord of Light. You are a widower, free to choose a Queen.”

“And you have delivered me one” he scoffed. 

“The Lord of Light has delivered her, My King” Melisandre stated. “I have merely been her guardian.”

He turned back to watch Sansa, now with the haunted living flame on her hand, singeing her dress as it danced. He frowned as she extinguished the flame and turned, running back towards the castle. 

“Something is wrong” Melisandre was running to meet her before he could stop her. 

_She set the scroll aside, mentally sorting through everything she would need to pack to return to Westeros. When Melisandre said that she would send for her, she hadn’t realized that it would be so soon. _

_Turning from her modest writing desk she looked, as always, to the fire._

_”What am I to do?” she asked softly, watching the embers and flames as they consumed each other._

_As she watched the flames melted away, showing her a man and woman entwined. Both were naked, a man with silver hair and a woman….she felt her cheeks heat as she realized that she was the woman in the flames. Her back was arched in pleasure, holding tightly to the wooden bedframe as he rutted into her, ecstasy written on his features._

_She had seen him hundreds of times before, but never like this. Never naked and glorious, fucking her with a ruthless passion that made her cheeks heat and gooseflesh race across her skin._

_She watched, drinking in every detail. From the scar across his chest to the clench of his jaw and the way his fingers dug into her hips, he was a man with a singular purpose. She watched her flame-self scream in pleasure, shaking violently beneath him and then he was growling himself, filling her with his seed before collapsing atop her._

_Sansa should have turned away, but the scene was breathtaking, him trailing kisses across her flame-self’s shoulder caressing her and cupping her stomach as he whispered words she could not hear._

_A child then, Sansa deduced. For there was no mistaking the possessive grip of his fingers of her flame-self’s womb, the passion in his eyes as he held every drop of seed he could inside her._

_When the vision vanished and she was once again alone in her small chamber at the Temple, she sank to the edge of her bed, thoughts racing through her mind._

_’He will worship you’ Melisandre had assured her and she could clearly see that in his eyes. There was no pain, no violence in their coupling, only need and lust, both of which were mutual._


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all been SO loving, here, take this... [<3](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186749640831/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)

By the time Stannis reached the Chamber of the Painted Table Sansa was talking frantically, Davos listening intently as she moved pawns on the map. 

“What is going on?” he demanded. 

“Cersei knows we’re coming” Davos explained, glancing to Sansa. “She has filled the Bay with Wildfire.”

“Sansa” Melisandre moved to her Protégé’s side.

“I saw it” Sansa said without stopping her assessment of the table. “She knows and there was an explosion ...devastating explosion” her eyes went to Davos, filled with tears. 

“My darling” Melisandre cupped her cheek, pulling her attention to them. “What did you see?”

“The fleet burns, all of it” Sansa shakes her head, pulling away. “The Great Lion, he rides in, just like before….we have to go through the land, a seaborne attack will never work.”

“A decoy perhaps?” Davos suggested. 

“Yes!” Sansa smiled, rearranging the pawns. “If they look to the sea, to the Mud Gate they won’t watch the mainland.”

“We could have an army north of the city with no issue” Davos noted, leaning over the table as Stannis joined them. 

_She had never seen this man before, the tall, dark haired man with bright blue eyes who stood before the Iron Throne. He wore all black, a golden stag over his heart as he spoke to the King._

_She could not hear what he said, but she watched as he smiled and talked with the King. His eyes were bright, reminding her of Robb when he laughed. She turned to her right and saw the King, the silver-haired man she had watched for years, this time with a crown of golden antlers atop his head. _

_Movement to her right jolted her vision and then suddenly there were more people she did not recognize, all of them young and smiling up at her as they talked quickly. She could not hear their words but their eyes..._

Sansa watched as King Stannis ordered his men about, loading up the last of the ships and supply wagons before he made his way to the South. Her and Melisandre would stay behind, both waiting until they were summoned to travel into King’s Landing. 

She felt panic bubbling in her veins as she watched the preparations, her inner-mind repeating prayers over and over. Protect him. Guide him. Bring him back to me. She had seen him in her visions for so long she felt that she knew him, that she was attached to him.

While Melisandre seemed to be calm, overseeing from the parapets, Sansa was ready to scream with panic. Amidst the fray of work around her she desperately sought an anchor. Turning away from the chaos she leaned against a stone pillar, the carved face of a dragon snarling beside her head as her hand met the stone. 

“It’s time” she heard the King’s deep voice and she turned to see him nod to Davos then move his eyes to her. 

There he was, her anchor. 

Sansa was moving before she realized it, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek, sliding to guide his head until their foreheads touched. She prayed quickly, whispering the words over and over, begging the Lord of Light for protection and guidance. 

“I will send for you when the city is ours” he said quietly when she paused her prayers. 

“Then I will see you soon, My King” she replied. 

He moved slowly, as if giving her a chance to step away, as if he expected her to but instead she tilted her chin and met his lips with her own. Spurred by her acceptance he pulled her flush against him with an arm around her waist, devouring her with the hungry, claiming kiss. She felt it in every inch of her body, desire thick and heady as it ran through her veins. 

A whistle broke their kiss, his eyes dark now as they looked down at her, “Soon” he promised, reluctantly releasing her.

She watched his ship until it vanished on the horizon, unable to look away as he sailed towards a war she had seen for so long. 

“Come” Melisandre’s voice was soothing as she draped a cloak over Sansa’s shoulders and walked with her into the castle. 

_Sansa had been afraid many times in her life, the worst being when she ran from Winterfell, the shouts of Stark and Bolton men alike haunted her as she cried, stumbling as she ran. That was fear of death, fear of rape but today was different. Today was a fear of pain. _

_“Trust in the Lord of Light” Melisandre encouraged her as they stood before the column of fire in the Red Temple. “The flames call to you, more than anyone.”_

_Sansa gave a small nod and moved forward, raising her hand to reach out. She could feel the warmth of the fire, increasing as she moved closer. Melisandre’s hands slipped from her shoulders as Sansa stepped to the column. R’hllor’s Eternal, they called it, an unending fire that sat at the heart of the Red Temple. It was so hot it was mostly white, casting an eerie glow around the room. _

_Taking the final step she watched the flame surround her hand, but she felt nothing. Only the warmth of the fire. Encouraged she flexed her fingers, rotating her hand as the flames tickled up her forearm, singeing her gown._

_She barely registered the prayers of those around her, the gasps and whispers. Instead she looked only to the flames. Her King awaited her there, seated on the great Iron Throne in the dim Great Hall. Her cheeks flushed deeply as the vision melted away, returning this time with the sinful sight of her astride her King, riding him wildly as he sat atop the Throne. Her dress was untied, hanging from her elbows as she moved, his hands guiding her movements, stroking her flesh._

_It melted once more and this time she was heavily with child, leaning against her King as she cried in pain. He was whispering words of comfort, smoothing her hair from her face and stroking her stomach, deep blue eyes full of worry._

_Again it changed but before she could see what it now held hands pulled her back to the present, a cloak coming around her, covering her nudity as the last of her dress burned away. She had not realized that she had moved, standing now on the other side of the Eternal flame. The smell of smoke filled the air, tickling her nostrils as she looked to her mentor._

_”You have walked through R’hllor’s Eternal, my darling” Melisandre smiled, eyes beaming with approval. “This has never been done before.”_

_”The flames did not burn” Sansa noted lamely, wondering what that could mean._

Stannis had watched from the ridge as the whole of Blackwater Bay erupted into green flames, the sight unsettling as they rode into King’s Landing. Sansa’s panicked vision had proven correct and as his men spilled through the gates and into the Keep proper he admitted that she had won them the day. 

He rode his black destrier up the steps to the Great Hall, cutting down any men who challenged him before riding right into the Hall itself. The Iron Throne sat empty, guards gone and no Lannisters in sight as his men poured in around him, searching every room. 

He guided his mount closer before slipping from the saddle and staring up at the metal monstrosity. 

“They’re dead” Davos appeared behind him. “In a tower room, all the children and the Queen.” If he was shocked to see the great black warhorse standing in the throne room beside his king he didn’t show it.

“Poison?” Stannis asked, frowning. 

“Sword” Davos stated. “The Kingslayer is not among them.”

“Find him” Stannis ordered. 

“She told me if we came in the Bay I would watch Matthos die” Davos said quietly. “I have never trusted your Red Woman or her Fire God, I made no secret of this. But Lady Sansa, she truly cares, she weighed the life of a boy against an invasion. I owe her a debt, Your Grace.”

Stannis gave a nod, “You can pay this debt in service to her when she is Queen.”

“I will endeavor to serve well” Davos nodded. 

“As my Hand, surely” Stannis’ mouth twitched in a near smile. “Send for her. For them both.”

“Yes, Your Grace” Davos gave a bow and go to work.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut with the smallest pinch of plot.

Sansa was aware of all the eyes on her and Melisandre as they rode into the courtyard of the Red Keep with the royal vanguard. Red Priests and Priestesses were not common in the heart of King’s Landing and now here were two clad in vibrant burgundy before them. It was nearing dark, having ridden all day to reach the city and the firelight surrounding them must have given them a sinister glow. 

As they halted at the steps she pulled the hood of her cloak back, looking up at the imposing building with wide eyes. She had never imagined it was so large. Her gaze fell then to the figure in all black descending the stairs. Her King. She smiled as she watched him. From his nearly all-silver hair to his polished boots he looked every inch a warrior king. Behind him Davos followed, the bronze Hand pin on his grey tunic, Matthos at his side in Kingsguard gold. 

“My Lady” Stannis moved to her side, helping her to dismount gracefully. 

Once she was on her feet she bowed before him, “My King” she greeted. 

“Welcome to King’s Landing” he said softly as she stood. 

“I trust you are well?” she inquired. 

“Quite” he offered her his arm and she gratefully took it. He spared a nod for Melisandre before turning to guide Sansa up the steps. 

As they entered the grand keep his hand settled over hers on his arm and she smiled to herself. He was a man not accustomed to affection and while his movements were unsure, he ached for touch. From what little she had seen of the former Queen, Selyse was a cold woman who bore only distaste for her husband. 

Looking up to the hard line of her King’s jaw, the blue of his eyes and his strength that echoed from his posture, she couldn’t imagine not being attracted to him. She could be biased, of course, as she had seen them together in so many ways, had seen him lost to pleasure, seen him hold her in his arms. He was a man capable of great love, but none had ever sought to nurture it in his heart. 

She looked to the great Iron Throne that loomed over the room and she frowned, “It's so cold” she noted softly. 

“I have yet to sit on it” he mused idly. “It seems a bit….much.”

Davos and Melisandre walked through the Hall and vanished, Melisandre giving her a slight nod as she found herself alone with her King. 

Stannis looked upon her, lit in the firelight of the Great Hall she was truly beautiful. Ethereal in a way he could not explain, as if her very being danced with the flames around them. 

“Tell me” he prompted her gently. “What do you see now?” 

“I have always seen a great many things, my King” she looked up at him, her bright blue eyes holding him in place. “For you? I see a long reign and many sons” she looked to the torch light briefly before looking back to him. “I have seen you since my childhood. Watched in the fire as your hair turned from black to silver, as you wed another and glowered in the halls of Dragonstone” she continued. “I saw you in the flames before I knew what I was truly seeing.”

“And of the future?” he asked. 

“You’re asking me if we marry” she said plainly and he gave a curt nod. “We do, my King. Though I do not know when we say the words…”

“But?” he filled her silence. 

“But if you take me this night, I will give you a son. An heir and Promised Prince” she replied simply looking to the torchlight. “I used to wonder who he was, in the flames, but he is you, with a little of me. His eyes and his laugh, perhaps” she looked back to him and offered her hand. 

He took it and she led him up the dias until they stood before the behemoth of a chair. 

“Tomorrow” he told her. “I will take you tonight and tomorrow we say the words, I will not dishonor you or my name with bastards.”

“As you wish” she smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. Softly at first but soon her hands were clinging to his doublet and he was exploring her mouth, tasting her deeply. She mewled softly as his hands went to her cloak, unwinding the fabric until it fell to a blood-red pool on the steps. Sansa worked the laces on his doublet and soon the leather joined her cloak as she unbuttoned his linen undershirt and her hands ran across the scar on his chest.

Her hands were impossibly warm against his flesh and he nearly groaned aloud. He had never been sexually adventurous and his marriage had been colder than the Far North, but here with this mysterious beauty he was powerless to resist her thrall. 

She guided him to sit on the seat of the Iron Throne, her eyes on his as she untied her simple red gown. He watched in rapt fascination as the fabric parted and he saw she wore nothing underneath. She was perfection, porcelain skin on display in the firelight and he ached to touch every inch of her. 

She let her dress pool on her elbows as she moved forward and settled astride his lap. Their lips met once more as his hands wandered her exposed skin. He cupped her heavy breasts, strumming the jeweled peaks before running his hands over her waist and hips. Her skin was softer than silk and its warmth soaked into his weary body, soothing him. 

As their mouths melded her hands moved to his breeches, stumbling a bit as she unlaced him and pulled his length free, carefully stroking him. He did groan then, the heat of her touch nearly unmanning him. 

“My King” she whispered against his lips as she rose over him and positioned him at her folds. 

“Take my body within yours and I will make you My Queen” he promised her. She held his gaze as she moved, unflinching as she took him inside of her, pushing passed the barrier of her maidenhood until he was buried to the hilt in her tight, hot channel. 

Sansa felt full, impaled on her King as she clung to his neck. Melisandre had told her there would be some pain but she had not mentioned the ache of being filled with a man’s cock. It felt sinful and foreign, his pulse beating in time with hers. 

The Lord of Light had told her the time had come and when she told Melisandre her mentor had instructed her not to delay in obeying his commands. The King had his kingdom and it would suffer if it had no heir. There was something else coming, she felt it's impending arrival in her bones, and they would need every bit of strength they had to defend the throne together. 

She pushed away her dress, letting the fabric flutter to the dais as she carefully rocked against him. His hands ran over her body, from her hips and up her back, holding her against him as she moved. 

Soon the ache began to fade and she could feel the wet slide of him within her, feel the way his body seemed to melt into hers. Fire and something more skittered across her nerves and left her gasping his name. A strong hand went to her hip, then slid to grip her ass tightly, helping her to ride him in long, steady strokes. She threw her head back, holding his neck for leverage as ache turned to passion. 

Not a sound filled the Great Hall but for their gasps and the thrum of the great torches that filled the room. Each one glowing brighter as she took her pleasure from her King. 

“My Queen” he soothed as he lifted a breast to pull the peak into his mouth, suckling deeply on her nipple before moving to the other. The action shot through her, urging her faster as her hips ground on his with every downward stroke. “My beautiful Queen of Fire” he kissed her shoulder and neck, gently nipping her collarbone. She watched with wide eyes as he trailed a thumb across her lips, “Lick” he instructed and her tongue traced across the pad of his finger before he dropped it between their bodies. 

She cried out as he stroked her, midnight eyes dark with lust and possession as he worked her body into a frenzy. With a twist of her hips she ground against his hand and felt the world explode behind her eyes, her entire being shaking around his. A strong arm held her as she bowed back, the fire in the torches nearly reaching the ceiling as she peaked. 

Abandoning her folds he guided her hips in several rough, forceful thrusts before he too cried out into the Hall, pulsing deep within her as he filled her. She closed her eyes on a prayer to the Lord of Light as she rest her head on his shoulder, their bodies shaking together. 

“My Queen” he stroked her back before running his hands through her hair.

_Sansa stood on the balcony of her room at the Red Temple, holding the thin fabric of her shawl around her shoulders. Beside her Melisandre stood, both of them watching the sunset. _

_”Today is your name day” Melisandre spoke without facing her. “You are a woman of ten and eight now. A woman grown strong in the Lord of Light’s honor.”_

_Sansa nodded, “I did not think I would live this long,” she admitted. “Not after Winterfell.”_

_Melisandre nodded, finally facing her, “You have a greater purpose in this world, my darling. You are the one who will save us all from darkness.”_

_”Darkness?” Sansa asked. _

_”You will defeat the darkness and bring us the Prince Who is Promised” Melisandre said. “There is another coming, she rides on the wings of darkness and she will enslave the world in madness. You are the only one who can stop her.”_


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, take this [ :D ](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186782170296/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)

_”Is Dragon’s fire the same as other flame?” Sansa asked her mentor._

_”No one knows” Melisandre answered honestly. “Dragon’s have not been around for many lifetimes.”_

_”I wonder if its touch would feel different” Sansa asked, touching the illuminated page with the dragon spewing fire. _

_"Only you would be able to tell, my darling.”_

Stannis stood beside the dying fire and watched as his wife, his Queen, slept. Her hair spilled across the pillows like wildfire, her soft skin gleaming in the light. 

They had been married nearly a moon’s turn now, having spoken the words beside the fireplace in the Great Hall with Melisandre overseeing. He had vowed to protect her when the night was dark and full of terrors, to keep her safe and by his side. 

He knew he was not worthy of her. She was young, beautiful and incredibly powerful. He learned more every day that she was stronger than he could fathom. The fires obeyed her whim and she could call upon visions with a drop of blood. She spoke often of another who would challenge him for the throne, but her words were vague, cryptic, at best. 

While he worked with Davos to rebuild the realm the Lannister’s had nearly unmade, Sansa was often with Melisandre, the women speaking in hushed, hurried tones. He could see now the depth of affection between them. Melisandre had cared for Sansa, guided her in her formative years and there was a mother-daughter bond that could not be broken. 

Both women were feared in court, whispered about in the city as all revered their power in some form or another. For Melisandre it was rumors of her many resurrections of followers of R’hllor and for Sansa it was how she had seduced the King with her magic. Seduced, he scoffed to himself. 

She stirred, softly whimpering his name and upon pushing the sheets aside she realized he was not there and she lifted her head. 

“I am here” he spoke softly and she rolled to face him, uncaring of her nudity. 

“Are you well?” she frowned, moving to stand and make her way to him. 

“I am, just could not sleep” he assured her as her arms wrapped around him. 

“I used to have nightmares” she admitted, looking up at him. “I remember waking to the screams. Pain and terror. I ran from my room and met my sister in the halls. We ran, we didn’t know what else to do, so we ran and we kept running until our bodies gave out. We collapsed in the Wolfswood and when I woke I was alone. I do not know where she went, or if she is alive but when I woke I knew I had to get to Volantis” she said softly. “And there Melisandre was waiting for me.”

“If Arya is alive she is doing well to lay low” he said softly, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her forehead. “Once words spreads of your heritage, there will be many who would see you dead.”

“I am a Baratheon, My King” she said sternly. “My sons will be Baratheons. Starks are no threat, it is the Dragons--”

“Dragons?” he paused, furrowing his brow. “Daenerys Targaryen?” 

“She’s coming, My King” she whispered softly. “And she is mad.”

“Her father was mad,” he mused. “Deranged and dangerous.”

“She is worse” Sansa sighed. She shook her head, looking up at him with a smile, “Let us think on better things, my King.”

“Better” he mused, smoothing her hair from her face. “Like my wife, the beauty.”

“Your Queen” she smiled, nuzzling his jaw. 

“My Queen” he repeated, pulling her tighter into his embrace. Her body melted against his, as it always had, lush curves forming against the hard planes of his body. 

“Stannis” she whispered as his lips met hers in a soft, caring kiss. 

He let himself get lost in her, her warmth and her affection. In all his life he had never had someone so openly care for him. Throughout their day she would touch his arm, hand, face, anything she could to assure him that she cared for him and it was intoxicating. Once a man who went moons without physical touch now seemed to be drowning in it. 

They did not return to bed, instead she pulled him down to the plush rugs before the fireplace, her hands working to rid him of his smallclothes as he settled into the cradle of her thighs. He kissed her deeply, drinking the sighs from her body as he ran his hands over her heated flesh. His Queen of Fire seemed to glow in the firelight, shadows dancing across her features. 

She whimpered softly as he released her mouth only to sigh as he moved down her body, trailing soft kisses and tasting her with his tongue. He found the thatch of fiery hair at the apex of her thighs and knew that he was nearly at his destination. 

She cried out as he lapped at her folds, hands clutching the rug as he parted her delicate flesh and south that bundle of nerves that would have her screaming. There were few things in this world that could be close to how beautiful his wife was in the raptures of pleasure, but she was by far the most stunning creature he had encountered. 

He devoured her, pinning her to the rug with strong hands as he worked her body into unbearable pleasure, not relenting until she was screaming and soaking his mouth with her juices. 

He barely registered the heat of the fire, the flames rekindled once more and spilling heat into the room, as he crawled back up her body to kiss her lax lips. She gave a breathless laugh before she sprang, moving him to his back and swinging a leg over his hips. 

“My King” she mewled, stroking his hard length before guiding it to her slick channel. She sank onto him with a cry, her body taking hers within her, gripping him tightly. He could only grit his teeth, watch as his wife took her pleasure blindly, lost to ecstasy as she rode his cock. 

She arched against him, leaning down to kiss the flesh over his heart, fire skittering over his flesh. She rocked her rips and he felt her inner-muscles tense and skitter as he threw her head back, screaming his name as she rode harder and faster. 

He took her hips in his hands, thrusting up into her with wild abandon until he spilled into her with a feral snarl, holding her tightly against him. 

She sighed his name, collapsing atop him as she nuzzled his shoulder and neck. The fire was nearly out of control now, both of them sweating from the heat that filled the room. 

“Ser Davos” he was surprised to hear his name on the Queen’s tongue but he turned to find her entering the small council chambers. Admittedly Davos had not had much interaction with the mysterious woman that Stannis had taken to wife, but she had saved his son regardless and she was owed respect.

“Your Grace?” he greeted her. 

“I must speak with you” she pulled a large scroll from her robes. “It is of great importance.” He watched as she unfurled the paper and showed a sketch of a unique looking weapon, the likes of which he had never seen before. 

“What is this?” he looked over the crude sketches. 

“Scorpions” she replied simply. “Or, at least, that is what I call them. Regardless we will need dozens of them, all along the walls, to defeat the dragons.”

“Dragons?” he stared, wide-eyed. 

“She is coming, Ser Davos” Sansa promised. “And we need to be ready or she will burn the realm to the ground.”

“So we will need these weapons to take the dragons down?” he asked, grabbing the papers she had unrolled. 

“If not take them down, force her to attack on the ground rather than the air,” she explained, looking over the papers. “She will rely on the fire, Ser Davos” she said. “I can take the fire from her if she leaves the seat of her dragons.”

He gave a nod of understanding, listening intently as she explained the details of the weapons which she sought to create. 

_ “This passage” Sansa paused as she read the ancient tome. “It speaks of the vessel but then the Prince Who is Promised but the tenses...they are not the same.” _

_ “No” Melisandre shook her head. “The vessel--you, will save us from the darkness of madness” she explained. “The Prince comes later, he will stand against the Others with his father’s sword.” _

_ “Father” Sansa paused, scrunching her brows. “Lord Stannis Baratheon, he carries Lightbringer?” _

_ “He does” Melisandre confirmed. “I will leave to meet him soon. The time is nearly here and when he is ready, I will call for you.”_

_ “So I am a womb?” Sansa frowned. “Nothing more than---”_

_ “No” her mentor cut her off. “You are the one who can lay waste to dragons, withstand their fire, their wrath. Your womb is secondary because if we cannot hold back the dragons, then everything is lost.”_

_ “And the Others?”_

_ “The Undead” Melisandre frowned. “I will not be here to face them, but the Prince, he holds them back, defeats the King of Night.”_


	6. Part 6

Stannis walked with Davos through the courtyard, both men watching as dozens of blacksmiths and carpenters worked together to build enough Scorpions to protect the walls. The dragons would come, Sansa had told them, and they needed to force them from the skies if not shoot them down completely. 

They had been working for several moons, day and night to fortify everything they could, all while hearing news as the Targaryen woman burned her way through Essos, laying waste to entire cities and colonies of men. 

The stories of horror made Stannis’ stomach turn, reminding him more and more of the Mad King that he had fought once before. 

Speaking of, “The Kingslayer?” he asked Davos. “Have we heard word yet?”

“No, Your Grace” Davos replied. “He was not in the city when we attacked. Rumor is that his father also seeks his location.”

“And Lord Tywin” Stannis paused. “Has he thrown in with the Targaryen girl yet?”

“No, and I should hope that he would not” Davos chuckled. “I’d hate to lay waste to yet another great house.”

“Confident” Stannis noted. 

“I am, Your Grace” Davos admitted. “We have the largest army in Westeros, skilled men and we have the largest armada. With Queen Sansa on your arm the North is held at bay and even the Iron Islands have continued their allegiance. Should Lord Tywin seek to take back the Throne, I believe that he would be marching to his end.”

“I agree” Stannis’ eyes traveled up to where Sansa stood on the balcony, clad in a deep blood red gown, modestly cut but clinging to her form like a lover. She watched the men working, absently toying with the ball of fire in her palm. She looked a sinful sorceress, her blue eyes half in this world and half in the next as she observed. 

As he watched her, Melisandre emerged from the keep to stand beside her, the two talking softly. Where Sansa was fire, Melisandre was blood, the two red women as close as a mother and daughter and equally dangerous. Sansa frowned, extinguishing her flame as Melisandre spoke and the older woman reached out to smooth the Queen’s hair before her hand went to Sansa’s stomach. 

He swallowed a lump of emotion as Sansa looked to Melisandre’s hand, cupping over her womb, before covering the hand with her own. 

‘I will give you a son’ Sansa had promised him in the Throne room on the night he first took her. He hadn’t dared to hope...he felt ashamed that he had not trusted her completely. There was even more at stake now, more than a Throne it was a legacy. 

“Your Grace?” Davos’ voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned back to the present and the men waiting for him. 

_Sansa watched the flames, watched the couple in the fire as they fought a different sort of battle. She had caught a glimpse of it before in R’Hllor’s Eternal Flame, but now she could see it much more clearly._

_They were in an opulent stone room, royal chambers perhaps, and her flame-self was in the man’s arms, screaming and clinging to him as labor pains twisted through her. It was a comfort, she thought, that the man was there, his eyes full of fear and worry as she cried. Affection, she dared to hope, maybe she would be more than a vessel to him. _

_She closed her eyes tightly before opening them to refocus on the flames. She watched as the babe was born, a strong, healthy boy. Their son, the Prince That Was Promised. The boy who was her purpose in this world, the whole reason that The Lord of Light had saved her, protected her._

_The King took the babe from the midwife with careful, trembling hands and together they marvelled at the child they had created. Her heart ached when he softly kissed her flame-self, his lips moving in words she couldn’t hear. The scene was beautiful, to be sure, but she couldn’t help but feel hollow. All of her life she had been told she would have a man’s sons, that that would be her greatest duty. But deep down, she had secretly hoped to be loved, not revered or to be someone’s duty. _

Sansa lay in the hot bath, steam swirling around her as she watched the fireplace. There were no visions there, but they helped her to escape into her memories. Melisandre had confirmed to her what she had already suspected, that the King’s seed had quickened inside of her womb and Sansa was with child. The Prince, Melisandre’s voice had been filled with awe as she spoke, a tinge of sadness in her gaze. 

Sansa had not been ill, not in the traditional sense, but she felt overly tired and sleep was elusive at times. Fortunately for those times her husband was there to indulge her. While her visions of him had prepared her for a passionate marriage bed, she had not anticipated how much she would ache for him. His touch, his kiss and the delicious feel of him inside of her as they moved. She craved him at all hours. 

As if summoned the chamber door and his tall, broad form entered their room. She turned to face him as he discarded his cloak, dark eyes on her. 

“Come” she whispered. “Join me.”

He gave a small nod and set to work removing his clothing, occasionally pausing to watch her, as if making sure she was still there. It had saddened her to realize how unused to affection her husband was. Even now, moons into their marriage he seemed to doubt that she could want him or that she would be there with him. Perhaps one day the shadows of doubt in his eyes would face away. 

He stood, now naked and walked towards her. He was a powerful man, both in title and body. Honed by war and perseverance, he was impressive to look at, especially the long length of his cock that moved as he walked. 

Her eyes briefly followed Lightbringer as he set the blade beside the tub and then sank in behind her. She settled in the cradle of his thighs, his arms going around her as she relaxed against him. She felt and heard his great sigh as the hot water sank into his body. 

She ran her hands over his arms as he relaxed behind her, chin resting on her shoulder. Smiling she took one of his hands and guided it over her womb. His fingers responded instantly, curling over the flesh in a promise of protection. 

“I have seen him” she spoke quietly as they savoured their moment alone in the heated water. 

“Is he the one you showed me in Dragonstone” Stannis asked. 

“Yes” she replied. “I didn’t know who he was at first, a brother of yours perhaps but then I realized he looked too much like my brother for that. He has been long awaited, long since promised” she continued. “And I am afraid I will fail him.”

“Fail him?”

“I have never been a mother before” she answered. 

“And I have never been a father before” he assured her. “Nor have I been a king before, but together we will find our way.”

“Together” she smiled at his words as her arms held her close. Her thoughts escaped her as his lips trailed across her shoulder, shivers racing across her flesh at his touch. While his hand stayed over her womb, the other roamed her body, a cautious and slow expedition. “Stannis” she whispered softly and his hand stilled. “I always want you” she told him. “Your kiss, your touch, your body inside mine. There is no shame in wanting each other and I will not reject or scorn you.”

He did not speak, but his hand resumed its travel and soon she was a whimpering mess, her body melting with desire. 

He moved her easily, lifting her to maneuver her over his cock and then pulling her sheath over him in a slow movement. She arched back against his chest, sighing at the feeling of being so filled with her husband’s cock. 

“Beautiful” he whispered, his hands cupping her breasts and teasing the peaks. 

“So good” she whimpered, rocking her ass against him, pushing him deeper. 

It was indulgent, the wet slide of their bodies together in the warm water, his deep groans of pleasure against her skin and the movement of his hands on her. She was lost in her husband, her king and she wished they never had to leave their chambers. 

Stannis watched her as she writhed against him, her slender body arched back to his as she languidly moved. He had a perfect view of her breasts in this position, her on his lap, and he let his hands wander as they pleased. 

She seemed to know how to allay his fears, his hesitations, as if she were reading his mind and it made everything so much easier. She had watched him undress with dark eyes and he couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve such a wife. A stroke of chance, he supposed, that her God of Fire had brought her to him. She was beautiful, passionate, intelligent and seemingly enjoyed his touch, as no other had done before. 

He ached for her in every way and he who had once stayed up at all hours to avoid his cold bed, now found himself retiring shortly after she did so he could enjoy her once more. A woman who wanted him and made him feel more of a man than he had in decades, an intoxicating woman indeed. 

“Come, my queen” he encouraged her as he lightly sank his teeth into the column of her throat, his hands teasing both her core and nipples as she moved over him. “I want to feel you.”

“Stannis” she clung to his arms around her, blunted nails digging half moons into his skin. He did not relent, watching her intently as her pleasure built and crested. Her cries filled the room as he felt her coming around his cock, hard enough he was nearly pushed from her core. Her porcelain skin flushed with desire and she shook against him, panting heavily. 

“Beautiful” he slowly brought her down, his fingers on her bundle of nerves slowing but not stopping. “Again” he whispered. 

“I cannot” she gasped. 

“You can” he countered, guiding her hips so he was seated deeply once more before his fingers resumed his ministrations, this time moving unfailingly fast. Her small bouncing movements on his cock were an awkward rhythm but they were enough to take her to climax once more. He was seated balls deep and felt every delicious flex and spasm, her body losing control around him. He held her tightly to his chest and when she screamed once more he filled her, pulsing and growling his own pleasure as she milked him. 

The bright fire in the hearth filled the room with light and heat, both of them panting heavily as their peaks retreated and left them deflated in the tub. 

She was leaning heavily on him, her body boneless and he smiled at her, “You’re stunning, my wife. Watching you take your pleasure is a sight I will make sure I never go without.”

“It is as if you know my body better than I do, husband” she sighed softly, turning to kiss his jaw. 

“Good” he noted with a small smile. He held her for a few more indulgent minutes before they left the bath and dried before climbing naked into bed. Despite the heat in the room he pulled her close once more, losing himself in the scent of her hair as he lapsed into slumber.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon typical violence. And some character death......sorryyyyyy *pushes tissue towards you*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186727836926/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186749640831/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186782170296/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)

Stannis was working with Davos, Cressen and the rest of the Small Council, battening down the hatches in preparation for the Targaryen girl when the high scream had him running down the halls until he found Sansa on her knees in the Great Hall crying uncontrollably, Melisandre doing her best to console her. Around her the torches were blazing, flames dangerously high.

“What’s wrong?” Stannis demanded, kneeling to pull his wife into his arms. He immediately realized how warm she was, her body shaking with sobs as she screamed ‘No’ over and over. 

“My King---” Melisandre said sadly, kneeling beside them to smooth Sansa’s tears away as the Queen screamed in protest. “Please, my darling.”

“No! NO!” Sansa’s voice cracked and she went near catatonic as she silently cried, the torches dying with her screams. 

“She should lay down” Melisandre stood, backing away. 

“What is wrong with her?” Stannis repeated. 

“She has seen something in the flames that she was not meant to see” Melisandre said sadly. “It is a fixed moment, it must happen and she knows….she knows it is the Lord of Light’s will.”

“You speak in cryptic riddles” Stannis spat. “Tell me---”

“She is safe, My King, you three are safe” Melisandre assured him. 

He gave a small nod and then processed her wording, “And you?” he asked, knowing that his wife considered this woman to be a Mother. When Melisandre did not reply he lifted his Queen into his arms and carried her to their chambers, Davos and Cressen following behind him as escorts. 

He had never seen such an emotional outburst from Sansa, nor had he ever seen such sadness in Melisandre’s eyes and he was gravely worried. Should something happen to Melisandre he didn’t know how to hold Sansa together. He cared deeply for his wife, more so than he would have ever expected and he did not want to see her grieving. 

Entering the chambers he lay her on the plush rugs beside the fire, their relaxing spot away from the bed. Sansa had built the ‘nest’ with blankets and pillows where they passed many nights curled up together, talking, making love and soaking in the heat of the flames.

Thanking his Hand and Maester, he closed and barred the chamber doors before moving back to her side, casting aside his cloak and Lightbringer to lay beside her. 

There was a long period of silence before Sansa took a shuddering breath and rolled into his arms, facing him. 

“I don’t remember much of my mother” Sansa told Stannis softly, laying in his embrace in their chambers. “I remember being afraid of the fire, afraid of punishment. There were rules, so many rules, and expectations. Always proper, always elegant and silent unless directly addressed. I don’t remember her smiling, or laughing...”

“I never met Catelyn Tully” Stannis noted. “I knew your father but not your mother, I am afraid.”

“When I ran from the North I was so afraid” Sansa continued. “When I left the ship, there was Melisandre of Asshai, beautiful, smiling and waiting for me. She knew me, all about me and she was so kind” she choked on a sob. “She is more my mother than Catelyn Tully was, at least, the mother I can remember.”

“You speak as if she will die” Stannis frowned deeply. 

“She will” Sansa sobbed. “Her destiny is as fixed as mine.”

“My dearest” he held her as she cried, his heart breaking at her grief. 

Sansa stirred awake in their nest of blankets, turning to see her husband sitting up beside her, a hand on her hip to assure her all was well. She noticed that his gaze was locked on the flames in the fireplace, midnight eyes dark with concern. 

“My King?” she moved to his side. 

“I was laying beside you” he told her softly. “Holding you as you slept and as I watched the flames I saw…” he clenched his head. 

“Stannis?” she prompted. 

“I saw you walking into a wall of fire” he continued. 

“I walked through R’hllor’s Eternal when I---”

“No” he interrupted. “You were here, in the Keep when you walked into the flames.”

“The flames do not hurt me,” she assured him, moving to his lap. “They are a part of me, I cannot describe it, but they embrace me.”

“It is disconcerting to watch,” he said. 

“I will be safe, My King.”

“I do not want you or our child to come to any harm,” he stated.

“Trust in the Lord of the Light, as I do,” she smiled warmly. “I am safe. We are safe” she moved her legs astride him and untied her wine colored gown, pulling the fabric wide. “Now, My King” she ran her hands over the leather doublet on his chest and leaned forward to kiss him deeply. 

He needed no other encouragement, his snarl melting away as he rolled her beneath him to the pillows of their makeshift escape. She sighed as he cupped her breasts briefly before he worked the ties on his doublet and breeches enough to pull his cock free. 

She could feel his desperation, the need to claim her, to take her and remind them both that they were alive and together in this world of madness. 

Running his fingers along her core he found her ready for him and he aligned himself and sank deep. She arched from the floor, feeling his leather breeches against her thighs as he filled her. He was still clothed and the world beyond them was still going about their work but he was fucking her roughly, holding her pinned with hands on her hips as he growled above her. 

“Stannis” she gasped, clinging to the blankets around her, watching in awe as her warrior king rutted into her over and over. He was strength, brutality and ferocity, all in the body of a man bound to duty and honor. Her husband, she cried his name as he hit a spot inside of her that had her seeing stars. She surrendered to his lust and let it pull them both under the tide. 

“She’s here” Sansa whispered suddenly in the middle of the Small Council meeting. It was as if Sansa had emerged from a trance, her eyes unfocused and lost as she looked around the room. At her words, Melisandre instantly stood and moved to the Queen’s side. 

He knew that his Queen’s power made the other Council members uneasy, it was not every day one faced a woman able to control fire and they were very cautious around her. None wanted to stir her ire. 

Stannis looked to his wife, watching as she dragged the Valyrian blade across her palm and the blood spilled free, springing to life in a spark of white hot flame. Sansa stared into the flames for several seconds before she turned and splayed her fingers wide. 

The flame grew in size, the sight of the white-haired girl standing beside a massive black dragon filled Stannis’ vision and he watched as she spoke to the tall, blonde form of a Northman who wore the Targaryen Queen’s hand pin on his chest. 

“A bear amongst dragons” Melisandre clicked her tongue. “Bears do not live long amongst the flames….”

“Jorah Mormont, an exiled man” Stannis stated plainly. “They’re just to the south of us by the look of the coast.”

“She comes tomorrow” Sansa gasped suddenly as the fire leapt up her arm and singed her dress. She turned to Melisandre then, tears escaping her eyes and Stannis’ felt his wife’s grief acutely. 

“Tomorrow, my darling” Melisandre kissed the Queen’s forehead softly.

Sansa stood on the battlements, watching the southern horizon as the sun began to rise. She had not been able to sleep, her mind racing wildly at all that would and could happen today. Beside her Melisandre stood, both of them clad in deep burgundy cloaks, hair dancing in the breeze as they shared their final sunrise. 

Her hand moved to the barely there swell of her child, the Prince. It was not visible to those around her but she could feel him, the burning light of his life force inside of her. His warmth soothed her, reminded her that there was a purpose in all things under the Lord of Light. 

All around the city the Scorpions stood ready, all of them loaded with dragonglass spears, ready to take the Dragons to ground. Davos was below with the armies, Edric Storm and Gendry Waters at his side, both clearly Baratheons in blood. 

Stannis stood in front of her, in his armor and cloak he was ready to fight to protect his kingdom. 

With a resounding screech the large black body of a dragon crested the horizon, soaring in between its brothers and carrying the Lady Targaryen, its massive wings ate up the distance until they were rising above the walls. 

Sansa heard Davos’ cry as he gave the order and the Scorpions let loose, filling the air with dragonglass. They had lulled them in and now the dragons were surrounded. A sickening screech filled the sky as the golden dragon plummeted to the city, crashing into the buildings and sending rubble flying. 

At the same time the bronze and green dragon lost its rhythm and staggered to the walls, landing roughly. They were as good as dead, Sansa knew, and the black dragon was wounded, struggling to hold its mistress aloft. 

Stannis moved then, walking toward the courtyard at the base of the Keep, arriving as the black dragon landed and the rattled form of Daenerys Targaryen slid to the stones. Sansa and Melisandre were behind him, both ready to face down the would-be usurper.

As the dragon rose up, Stannis paused and Sansa turned to her husband, “Your sword” she said and Stannis raised Lightbringer. Sansa gripped the blade, dragging her hand down the sharpened edge and as her blood spilled onto the steel the flames ignited, consuming the blade but not harming it. “Stannis Baratheon, Warrior of Light” Sansa stepped from her husband. 

“Sansa” he glared, his tone a warning. 

“Trust in the Lord of Light, My King” Sansa promised and with a nod to Melisandre turned away. 

She looked to the small white haired woman, “Daenerys Targaryen” Sansa moved toward her, pulling the hood of her cloak back. 

“Who are you that you---”

“I am Sansa Baratheon” Sansa was in no mood for speeches. “Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and High Priestess to the Lord Of Light, the one true God, R'hllor” she replied as she walked. “In your over confidence you have out-flown your armies, Lady Targaryen, and you are not welcome here.”

“The Iron Throne was stolen from my family!”

“And the man who stole it is dead” Sansa kept walking, unafraid.

“Dracarys” Daenerys ordered and Sansa felt the warmth of the dragon’s fire wash over her. It felt different, hollow somehow as he surrounded her and burned away her dress. But Sansa never faltered and when the flames died, so did the smug look on the Dragon ‘Queen’s’ face. “No---you are not of the blood!”

Sansa was on her before she could protest, plunging the Valyrian blade she’d had hidden in her sleeve into Daenerys’ heart, holding her against her body as she choked in shock. The courtyard around them had fallen silent, all eyes watched as the Queen, a very naked queen stabbed the last living Targaryen. 

“Travel safely, Lady Targaryen” Sansa lowered the woman to the stones as the gates to the courtyard were breached and the vanguard flooded in. “For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

The black dragon screeched loudly, taking its mistress’ body from Sansa and taking to the sky once more, struggling to rise and evade the Scorpion fire. Its brother on the wall tried to take flight once more but it was overwhelmed with soldiers and could not break free.

As Sansa stood it was to Melisandre’s cloak coming around her shoulders as the cry of the Bear filled the air, this time his blade meeting Stannis’ flaming blade. The two men squared off, the Bear’s attacked filled with rage and Stannis simply parried, waiting for his opponent to wane.

“Come” Melisandre moved Sansa away from the thick of the battle and toward the steps of the Red Keep. “You did well, my darling.”

“The dragon’s flames are hollow” Sansa noted, fastening the cloak over her nudity. 

“They are not of the Lord of Light” her mentor agreed. “I have loved you as a daughter, and know that I would not change this. I would make this choice again and again.” 

“Mhysa” Sansa whispered the Valyrian word for ‘mother’. “I will carry you with me always, and my daughter will be named for you, her Grandmother.” 

“My darling” Melisandre kissed her forehead. 

Sansa choked on a sob as she turned to see Stannis cut down the Bear with Lightbringer. Beyond the Keep’s walls the Baratheon and Royal armies met the Dothraki screamers, but the tight confines of the city made the horse warriors easy to trap and ensnare. 

A screech filled the air for the last time and Sansa looked to see the black dragon falling from the sky, body filled with spears as it plummeted beyond the wall. It was done, she felt her muscles relax. The dragons were no more. 

Stannis stood in the center of the yard, his men watching him in awe as he held Lightbringer steady. He could not feel the heat of the flame, but the light flickered in his eye as he turned to look to his Queen. She stood on the steps with Melisandre, thankfully clad in a red cloak, looking no worse for the wear after her encounter with the dragon's fire. 

He saw the two women talking softly and the tears in Sansa’s eyes and he moved toward her.

He had taken only two steps when a man wearing a cloak emerged from the shadows behind Sansa, pulling aside his hood to reveal golden blonde hair and a sharp jaw, clenched in fury. He must have slipped into the Keep in the chaos. Stannis began to run as the man pulled a dagger from his belt and made his way to the Queen. 

“SANSA!” Stannis cried and he watched in horror as the Kingslayer grabbed Sansa’s hair and forced her head back. Dagger raised the man said something Stannis could not hear and then plunged the blade to the Queen’s heart.

Only it did not meet its mark. The slender form of Melisandre stepped between them, shielding her daughter and the blade slipped into her chest.

Taking advantage of the Kingslayer’s distraction Stannis cut the man down with Lightbringer, pinning his body to the stone with the flaming blade. Stannis turned to see Sansa cradling Melisandre across her lap, sobbing as she cried out over and over. 

“Mhysa” Sansa pleaded. “Mhysa! Please.”

“My….darling” Melisandre’s voice was broken, halted. 

“Please” Sansa sobbed, holding her mentor and mother tightly. 

“I died...long ago, My d-darling” Melisandre. “But the Lord of Light….needed me to watch over you” Sansa lowered her forehead to the Red Woman’s and Melisandre said something he could not hear and then reached up to unclasp the necklace from her throat. 

“NO!” Sansa screamed as Melisandre’s body began to fade away, ash and dust floating on the breeze, leaving nothing behind but an empty dress and ancient necklace. Sansa took the necklace into her hands, speaking quickly in Valyrian, over and over, calling for her Mhysa. 

He had never felt so helpless in his life, nor had he ever felt so grateful. Melisandre had known this would happen, Sansa had seen it, he was certain that was why she had screamed in the hall, but Melisandre faced it with dignity and gave her life for Sansa’s, for their child's. 

“My love” he leaned down and lifted her into his arms. She cried harder, clinging to him as he carried her up the steps of the Keep, leaving behind 4 dead dragons and the body of the Kingslayer, flaming sword still in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186727836926/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186749640831/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186782170296/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)


	8. Part 8

Stannis watched over his wife closely the night following the Targaryen attack. While the men were working through the night, busy moving the bodies from the courtyard and removing the dragons from the city, King Stannis watched over the sleeping form of his wife and Queen. 

She had cried, her body shaking with the force of the sobs as he carried her to their room. She clung to the gold and gemstone necklace, even now in sleep she held it in her hand. He would do anything to ease her pain. Sansa had known this was coming, as had Melisandre, but they could have done nothing to stop it. 

He looked to where Lightbringer lay, the once-flaming sword having been returned to him by Ser Davos several hours ago. Alongside the blade was a folded dress, Melisandre’s, that she left behind when her body faded away. Davos had thought that Sansa might want it, a kind gesture that Stannis had thanked him for. 

Today a would-be-Queen and a Kinglsayer had died alongside three dragons. 

_Gods_ Stannis sighed deeply. Dragons. He was certain that the only one who felt no fear when the great beasts attacked had been Sansa. She had walked through dragon’s fire without hesitation and driven a blade into the Targaryen woman’s heart. Watching his wife be consumed by fire was enough to make his stomach turn. 

He had gone many years alone, removed from the world and he had not yet reasoned what he did to deserve his Queen, to deserve her affection and touch. Even with a flaming sword of legend in his hand he felt unworthy of her.

He did not deserve her, but that did not stop him from loving her. Clenching his jaw he stood and paced to the fireplace, soaking in the familiar warmth. What did he know of love? Little, if anything. But he knew that he loved his wife, that he would destroy anything in his path if it meant protecting her. 

Absently he rubbed his chest, wondering when his long-dead heart had begun to ache for her. 

“Husband” his wife’s voice broke into his thoughts and he turned to see her awake, watching him from the bed. 

Moving back to her side he crouched beside the bed, “My Queen.”

“I would have tried to bring her back” Sansa said softly, looking to the necklace in her hand. “She knew…”

“She gave her life for yours and that of our child” Stannis said softly. “I will ensure that she is properly remembered throughout the realm.”

“She was the only one in my life, in my heart for a very long time” Sansa reached out to move her fingers over his cheek and he found himself leaning into her touch. “She brought me to you. Brought me to the strong, honorable man whom I love more than anything in this world.” 

At her words he felt the air rush from his body, shock coursing through him, “Sansa” he whispered reverently. 

“I would burn down the world to save you, to protect you and our children” she promised him and his heart raced at the idea of their children. Children, more than the one she carried now. 

“My Queen” he turned his head to kiss her palm. “My wife and my love” he moved then, climbing into their bed with her. Her nude body wrapped around him as their lips met. 

She was hot around him as her arms and legs held him close, the faint smell of dragon’s smoke still clinging to her hair and was reminded that he could have lost her today. This fueled his desperation, drove his hands to roam her flesh with abandon. 

“Stannis” she sighed as he stroked her folds, spreading the moisture he found there and teasing her bundle of nerves. Unable to wait another second to claim her once more, he quickly shed his small clothes to take his cock in-hand and guide it to her channel. With a sound that bordered on a snarl he slid home, her body surrounding him, holding him deep.

Sansa watched her husband, her warrior, unable to look away at his look of possession and love. He was a man lost to emotion, fucking into her over and over, eyes dark and jaw clenched. She could feel his need to imprint himself on her, to claim her as his once more, somehow for the world to see. The stoic facade was gone and her husband was laid bare before her. 

She watched a droplet of sweat run from his temple to his chin and she reached a hand up to soothe him, “Husband” she whispered, moving to roll him to his back, her body astride him. 

“Sansa” he gripped her hips tightly as she moved over him, rocking her hips slowly, keeping him deep within her. There was nothing she loved in this world like the way her husband felt inside of her. With him she felt whole, complete and beautiful. 

When he was all but panting beneath her she rode him in earnest, raising and lowering over him in a rhythm that had them both moaning in pleasure. 

“Come with me” she pleaded. “Stannis” she gasped as he began to raise his hips to meet hers. Their room was filled with the slap of bodies and their cries as they found their peaks of pleasure together. 

Sansa collapsed across her husband’s chest, her hair covering them both as she kissed the flesh over his heart. 

Stannis’ hand carded into her hair, moving the heavy length to the side, cupping her cheek once he could see it, “My beautiful love.” She stretched up to kiss his lips, sighing at the touch. “All of this” he said quietly. “Is nothing without you beside me.” 

“And I will always be beside you,” she promised, nuzzling her face under his jaw to kiss his neck. “Always.”

Word spread like wildfire throughout the realm. Stories of the Queen of Fire who walked through fire and killed the dragon queen while naked. Stories of the King of Fire who cut down men with his flaming sword, who had bested the Kingslayer and after the battle carried his Queen away. 

Before the skulls of Daenerys’ dragons were installed with the others in the bowels of Red Keep, they were displayed in the courtyard and they had become an attraction of sorts, hundreds upon hundreds coming to see them for themselves. 

Sansa watched from the balcony as men, women and children milled around the skulls, gaping in awe and cowering in fear at the size of them. 

“Our King killed them!” one said.

“No the Queen did” someone countered. 

“The Queen walked through fire, the King killed the Kinglsayer” another added. 

“No one could beat the Kingslayer!”

“The King did!”

“They say the King took his wife to bed and stayed there a sennight after the battle!”

“No, he fucked her right on the steps!”

She smiled to herself, listening to the stories and how they grew more exaggerated as time went on. 

King Stannis had become a King of legend, just as she knew that he and their son would be. The Great Baratheons, Stannis and Steffon, the Kings who would stand against entire armies and come out victorious. 

She would often come here, to the balcony, to rest and watch the people. The stone railing was thick enough to sit on and now that her body was growing with child, she appreciated being able to rest her feet.

Each day while Stannis met with the council, she came here to wait. It wouldn’t be long now. She watched the gate, waiting...

Stannis watched his wife as she relaxed on the balcony, one hand on the large swell of their child and the other absently passing a flame between her fingers and palm. She looked like the picture of contentment, her hair dancing tightly in the breeze, the deep red of her gown pooling on the floor like blood. 

She turned to him with a smile, “My love” she extinguished the flame and extended her hand to him. He moved closer and took her hand, smiling when she placed it on her stomach, feeling the movement of their stone beneath her flesh. “He always knows when you’re near.”

Stannis’ heart swelled at that, “He is strong.”

“More than you know” she leaned forward to kiss him softly, neither of them caring that any below could see them, their affection. “He---” she broke off abruptly, eyes darting to the gate. “She’s here.”

“Who?” Stannis stomach sank in worry, following Sansa’s gaze but seeing no one. 

“Help me” she stood and he offered his arm, helping her to walk back through the Keep and to the Great Hall. It was there he saw the short, slender of a boy---no, a woman in men’s clothing. A long thin blade sat at her waist and a golden dagger with a jeweled hilt gleamed there. She was facing the Iron Throne, a canvas bag in her hand.

“Took you long enough,” the woman said, amusement in her voice. “Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris, sister” Sansa smiled as the woman turned to face them, dark eyes gleaming with happiness. “My Love, this is my sister, Lady Arya Stark, daughter of Eddard, lately of the House of Black and White in Braavos.”

“You knew then” Arya smiled. “I wondered.”

“I did” Sansa replied. 

“Welcome to the Red Keep, Lady Arya” Stannis greeted his good sister properly. 

“Just Arya” the woman corrected, moving closer to extend the bag to him. “I’d have been here sooner, but I was delayed. Consider this a wedded gift.”

She moved like death, he noticed. Silent, smooth and without an ounce of fear. It was strange to him that Lord Stark’s daughters had fled to the winds and then returned, one serving the God of Fire, the other the God of Death. Death and Fire. 

Taking the bag he opened it and gaped at the contents, “Is this..”

“Was. Tywin Lannister” Arya said coolly. “He was first on my list. You took care of most of the others.”

“And the Mountain?” Sansa asked. Stannis looked to her in confusion, seeing her lack of surprise he reasoned that she had seen this in some form or another.

“I kept him” Arya smiled cruelly. “A selfish notion” she added and then her cruel expression fell as quickly as it came, replaced with a lecherous smile. “Is Gendry here?”


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winding down, for at least this part of their tale... thank you so much for sticking with me!
> 
> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186727836926/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186749640831/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186782170296/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)

“I had gone to look for food” Arya said quietly as the sisters sat in front of the fireplace in the family hall. Behind them Stannis, Davos, Matthos and Gendry were speaking of matters of the realm but the two sisters were stealing a private moment before they retire for the evening. “The men, the Brotherhood Without Banners, found me and assumed I was a boy. Gendry was with them..”

“I thought you had abandoned me” Sansa admitted. “I was devastated and so I just started walking.”

“No, they forced me to travel with them” Arya explained. “Gendry, he protected me until I could find my own way.”

“You love him” Sansa said, a statement more than question. 

“I didn’t at first” Arya laughed. “We fought terribly, and then...then we loved passionately. I left to go to the House of Black and White, but I promised I would be back.”

“And so you are” Sansa smiled at her younger sister, a girl no longer but a woman grown. 

“And you” Arya looked to Sansa’s large stomach. “A Queen and mother.”

“And High Priestess,” she chuckled, smoothing her hand over her stomach. Their son would arrive any day now, she could feel his strength, he was ready to come in the world. 

“What would mother say of us now” Arya smirked. “You the Queen of Fire and me a girl with no name.” 

“I found that Melisandre of Asshai was more a mother to me than Catelyn Stark” Sansa admitted quietly, her eyes looking to the flames. Just then she felt the kick of Steffon’s feet against her hand as he rolled and moved. “Easy, love” she soothed him. 

“My Queen” Stannis moved to her side, brow furrowed. 

“I am well, My King” she smiled. “He will be here soon, within the sennight I would think.”

“Then you should be resting, My Queen” he cupped her cheek softly. 

“Alright” she gave a nod and turned to bid her sister good evening before Stannis helped her to stand. Gendry moved to Arya’s side as Stannis escorted Sansa away and Sansa found herself grateful that Arya had someone to care for her. 

Stannis was quiet as they walked, but when they were safely ensconced within their chambers he spoke, “I should like to be there,” he said. “When our son is born.” 

“And so you shall” Sansa smiled at the emotion in the depths of his blue eyes. He gave a nod and she turned, untying her dress and casting it aside. Before she could move to the bed her husband’s arms wound around her. His chin rest on her shoulder and his hands smoothed over her stomach.

“My Queen” he whispered. “My beautiful Queen.”

She leaned against his strength, relaxing until her head lolled back to red on his shoulder. In his arms the worries of the world melted away. Though, admittedly, there weren’t many worries these days. The realm had found peace, and peace would last until their son was a man, ready to take on the armies of the dead to protect the realm of men. 

“Rumor tells that you took me on the steps of the Red Keep when your blood was up after the battle,” she teased. 

“Marble steps could hardly be comfortable for such a thing” he kissed the skin of her shoulder. 

“I much prefer our privacy” she sighed softly as his hands moved to cup the full weight of her breasts. “Stannis…”

“As do I” he whispered. “Then I am the only man to hear your cries of pleasure.”

“Perhaps you should take me to bed, husband” she turned to look up into the chiseled line of his jaw. He needed to further encouragement, shedding his clothes to guide her to the bed and helping her to the mattress before moving in beside her and kissing her deeply. 

She sighed and melted into his embrace as much as her stomach would allow. He drank deeply of her mouth, a hand wandering her flesh, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers eventually found her core, parting her folds to stroke and circle her. 

“Stannis” she gasped, parting their kiss to pant in pleasure as he worked her body. 

Deftly he rolled her to her back, kissing a path down her chin to her breasts as he kept his fingers moving. She cried out as he latched onto an overly-sensitive peak of her breast and she clung to his shoulders as he suckled her into her peak. 

She shook and trembled beneath him, trying to catch her breath as his fingers slowed. He released her nipple with an audible pop and lapped at the peak before he moved back. She could feel him, hot and hard against her hip and she wanted him with new desperation. 

“Your side, I should think” he helped her to move to her side, facing away from him before he spooned himself against her back. One of his arms went under her head and the other moved to lift her leg enough that he could guide himself to her slick channel. 

His wife sighed his name, that breathless whisper that shot straight to his blood, as he filled her, stretched her body around his cock. She was soaked from her peak, tight and warm around him and he groaned at the ecstasy. He could make love to her for days at a time, losing himself in the warmth of her body and the passion of her sighs. 

His lips were unable to part from her neck and shoulder, raining soft kisses upon them as he moved, rocking their bodies together in the ancient dance. His hand smoothed from her thigh, over the swell of their son, and to her breasts, plucking and stroking the flesh. 

Her moans and cries filled the room, the fire roaring beside them, the firelight dancing across the walls. One of her hands reached back to his hip as the other fisted into the sheets, cries increasing as her nails dug into the flesh of his hip as she urged him faster. 

Her back arched and he sped his pace, claiming her now in earnest. Holding her breasts he rolled the flesh in his fingers as he took her and soon she was crying out mindlessly, panting and then screaming out his name. 

“Stannis!” she gasped and several thrusts later she choked out in pleasure, body seizing around his as he came. He kept moving, gritting his teeth against the pleasure of her flexing channel and then with a growl he came, moving deep and holding as he poured into her. 

“My Wife” he kissed her shoulder as they panted for air and she turned to look over her shoulder at him. 

“My Husband” she sighed as he kissed her cheek. They were sweaty and warm, the fire heating the room more than adequately with his wife’s pleasure. Exhaustion coursed through him and he relaxed beside her as his body slipped from hers. She snuggled back against him and he cupped the weight of her stomach with his hand. 

“I love you” he whispered. 

“And I you” she replied sleepily. 

“Your Grace” Arya’s voice cut into his small council meeting and he turned to see his good-sister in the doorway. “It’s time” she said simply and Stannis was on his feet, dismissing the council for the day. 

He followed Arya’s quick and silent steps, through the keep until they reached the small chamber in the family quarters reserved for birthing. While Arya stopped in the hall, Stannis strode inside and toward the sound of his wife’s cries.

“Stannis!” Sansa gasped, sweating horribly, her skin a bright pink. 

“Sansa” he moved past the midwife. 

“Your child is nearly here, Your Grace” the midwife spoke. “Her Grace waited a long time to call for us.”

“Sansa” he chided, moving behind her on the edge of the bed to hold her. 

She opened her mouth to speak but cried out instead, her body trembling then tight as a wave of pain moved over her. She leaned back against his chest and he smoothed her hair and the sweat from her forehead. 

“Your Grace” the midwife motioned to a nurse. “When the next one comes, push.”

“Alright” Sansa said weakly, trying to catch her breath. 

Stannis held Sansa as she cried, fought and pushed their son into the world, her body going heavily limp against his own as the babe slipped from her body. Shrill cries filled the room and the midwife worked quickly, as Sansa wept in relief. 

“A son, Your Grace” the midwife spoke as the nurses helped her to clean the babe. 

“Steffon Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne and the Prince That Was Promised” Sansa whispered to Stannis and he smiled, turning to kiss her softly. 

“You honor me, My Queen” he smoothed her hair. 

“It is the Lord of Light who honors us both” she looked up as the midwife approached and lay the babe across her chest. Sansa cradled the baby in her arms, the boys cries quieted at the warmth of Sansa’s body, whimpers melting to a stare of wonder as he looked up as his parents. 

“Black of hair” Stannis smiled at the blue-eyed, black haired babe looking back at him. 

“You have seen him, My King” Sansa whispered. “He will be the image of his father.”

“Aye” Stannis wrapped his arms around his wife and son. “He will be a fine King indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186727836926/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186749640831/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186782170296/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)


	10. Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! We're going to wrap up here and perhaps Part 2 will arrive someday! 
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me and for loving Mel in this work! <3

Stannis sat on the Iron Throne, a chair he had truly come to dislike sitting on, listening to the reasoning voice of Jon Snow, Lord Commander of Castle Black and The Wall. Beside Stannis was his eldest son and heir, Steffon, just as tall and imposing as his father, with a bright blue gaze that seemed to cut through people. 

In the back of the room, Queen Sansa Baratheon stood, tall and regal in her deep red gown, the forms of their younger children with her. Steffon had not been an only child for long. He was soon joined by Alric, Mychal, Melisandre and Cassana, all of them Baratheon in look, though Mel had Sansa’s fiery personality and draw to the flames. 

His Queen was just as beautiful as the day he met her, and he loved her more than he thought possible. Their family, their children were beautiful and far more than he ever expected to have. He had held Sansa through each labor, watching their children take their first breaths and holding them for the first time together. 

As Steffon grew, it was apparent he was a man who would follow in his father’s footsteps. Stoic, serious and with a mind for war, he learned quickly and learned well. By the age of ten and six he could best any man in the yard aside from the King, and by ten and eight he could best the King. 

Sansa had been correct in saying that Steffon would be the image of his father. Aside from his full head of hair, Steffon could be a younger version of Stannis, down to the clench of his jaw. While Stannis was proud of all of his children, Steffon was a man dedicated to his duties and he admired that greatly. 

Lord Commander Snow was here to warn them of The Others, warn them of their movements on the wall and the coming war. As he mentioned the Walkers, Sansa moved forward, leaving her children in Davos’ care. 

She produced her dagger and slid it across her palm, bringing the flames to life. Lord Snow watched her, surprised at her behavior, his eyes going wide when she held the flames before his face. 

“The King of Night marches South” she watched the flames. “From a land of eternal winter, he brings it’s chill with him” she looked to the heavyset man at Lord Snow’s side. “You have seen them.”

“I--I have, Your Grace” the man nodded. 

“Dragonglass or Valyrian Steel will kill them” she looked to the flames and then turned to look at Steffon. “And the Night King will fall.”

Stannis saw Steffon give a nod, his hand flexing around the hilt of Lightbringer. Upon the occasion of him beating his father in the tournament ring, Stannis entrusted Lightbringer to Steffon’s care, while Stannis himself carried the large blade of Sansa’s father, Ice. 

Ice had been brought south by Lord Wyman Manderly, a Stark bannerman who had avenged the Stark slaughter of Winterfell at Stannis' command and retook the keep. Arya and Gendry Stark were now residents of the ancient home, along with their three, recently legitimized children. 

“We will assist you with the coming war, Lord Commander” Stannis glanced to his son as Sansa extinguished her flames. 

“I thank you, Your Grace” Lord Snow nodded. 

“You should know” Sansa looked into the eyes of the Northern man. “Though she said otherwise, she did love you.” 

At this Lord Snow froze, eyes full of shock as he watched her, “Your Grace--” he paused and swallowed, unable to form words. 

But Sansa stepped back, moving toward the dias where she moved to Stannis’ side beside the throne, “The Great War is coming” she said loud enough to be heard in the whole of court. “And we will prevail” she looked to Steffon with a soft, motherly smile. 

Stannis reached out to take her hand, lifting it to his lips. It was no secret in the realm that King Stannis Baratheon adored his Queen of Fire, and he never sought to hide his small affections from the court. 

“Come Lord Snow” Stannis turned back to the men of the Night’s Watch. “We shall get to work” he looked to Steffon. “Take these men to the Chamber of the Painted Table, I will be with you shortly.”

Steffon gave a nod and moved down the dias. Shortly after Steffon’s birth Stannis had sent for the large, detailed table, installing it in the chamber beside the small council and adjacent to the courtyard where Aery’s maps lay inlaid in the floor. 

Both served to help him with the business of the realm, and now in this time of War they would be needed more than ever. 

Of course, the table being here in King’s Landing meant that he had managed to find a way to have his Queen across the painted top. She had screamed wildly as he took her, legs spread wide as he possessed her, stroked her and gave her everything that he could. Sansa would claim that was where they had conceived Mychal, and he could not argue with her; she knew the mysteries of the world better than he did. 

Rising from the Iron Throne he offered Sansa his arm, dismissing court as he led his Queen away. 

In the privacy of their anti-chamber she smoothed the worry from his brow, “My King.”

“Tell me he will be safe” Stannis asked, facing her. 

“Steffon is The Prince That Was Promised” she assured him. “The Lord of Light shines through him and he will not be harmed, My Love.”

Stannis clenched his jaw and gave a sharp nod, “I had hoped I had seen enough war in my lifetime.”

“And you have, My King” Sansa smiled. “This Great War, is our Sons to lead.”

“I cannot keep him safe, if he is at war” Stannis stated. 

“You already have, he is a warrior and strong fighter because of you” Sansa smiled. “And when the time comes, he will ignite his own blade and slay the King of Night. At his age you lead Storm’s End to freedom after a terrible siege. You are a good father, loving and caring, now you must trust that Steffon is ready and trust the Lord of Light to protect him.”

Stannis pulled her close, hugging her tightly, “I would be lost without you, My Queen.”

“I daresay you would be glowering at everyone in sight without me” she smiled, leaning up to kiss him. 

“No” he paused, frowning softly. “Without you I would have died long ago. You are my heart Sansa Baratheon, the flaming heart of a sigil I adopted long before I met you.”

“In your heart, you knew I was coming” she kissed him once more, this time he held her close, parting her lips with his own. In ten and nine years of marriage his passion and love for her never faded and he knew it never would. 

They had spent nearly two decades together and she was the companion that he would walk with through the rest of his days. Together they had made 5 beautiful children and lead the realm into prosperous peace that was now threatened by the undead. Now it was his son’s turn to lead their army and bring them into peace once more. 

Trusting Steffon to keep the men occupied for a bit longer, he allowed himself to lazily kiss his wife, holding her warmth. She clung to his shoulders, hands in his hair as they simply enjoyed each others’ touch. Later, he decided, he would devour her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186727836926/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186749640831/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186782170296/the-fires-of-rhllor-au-in-which-melisandre-of/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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